Less Than Nothing
by Iliraen
Summary: Lancelot remembers the love of his love and his adventures with the knights. Lancelot/OC, maybe Tristan/OC. R&R. "He wanted to feel the pain so that when he finally died, he would appreciate the peace."
1. Chapter 1

***I do not own any KA characters. Duh.***

***Uber short chapter because it's just the prologue. Concerning time, this chapter is what is actually happening and the rest will most likely all be flashbacks. Much love.***

Chapter 1: Waste

Lancelot trudged up the hill in absolute silence. He was tired. So tired. Years of war and practically torture had taken their toll. He didn't know how many more times he would be able to make the trip up to her grave.

His fellow knights had warned him of this happening--of when he would be too old to visit her, but he just had to bury her on top of a hill. She had loved Britannia's land, how green and beautiful it was, and that made Lancelot's decision to bury her where she could see it all.

Lancelot sighed and stopped where he was. He realized that in the past year, the hill that he had buried her on had turned into a mountain. He _was_ getting too old for this.

He gazed at the land around him, too tired to continue for the moment. He took some comfort in the fact that the weather seemed to match the mood of his journey; it was grey, dark, and raining.

Lancelot sat down, still breathing hard. He wondered how long it would be before he died as well. He hoped it would be soon; he really had nothing to live for. He just wanted it to end. Maybe he would past peacefully in his sleep like Bors did, a couple years ago. Lancelot frowned at the thought. No, he wanted to be killed brutally. He wanted to feel the pain so that when he finally died, he would appreciate the peace.

A cawing suddenly took place overhead. Lancelot looked up, blinking back the rain droplets that fell in his eyes. A small hawk was flying above the hill that Lancelot was climbing and he gave a small smile, thinking of Tristan.

After all, it was because of Tristan and his hawk that Lancelot had first met her.


	2. Chapter 2

***Short Chapter again, I know. But still just trying to get this off the ground and into the air, if you know what I mean. Thank you for reviews!! Much love.***

Chapter 2: Crash into Me

*start flashback*

Lancelot jerked awake to the sound of horse hooves on the ground. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking several times in order to gain focus. The first chance of sleep in nearly a fortnight, and he was being forced awake. Typical.

He lifted his head and knocked back his cloak's hood, revealing his curly dark hair that hung in his eyes. Gazing towards the sound's direction, he realized it was Tristan riding toward them at full speed. He frowned slightly; when did Tristan even leave camp? This wasn't good.

"Lancelot! Wake the others!" Tristan called as he galloped closer.

_No,_ Lancelot thought bitterly. He was tired, damnit, TIRED. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Tristan's bloodthirstiness.

However, Lancelot knew that not obeying Tristan was asking for a death wish. He groaned. He really didn't want to get up.

But now, it was too late. Gawaine was now stirring and Dagonet was already standing, carefully putting his armour on.

_Noooooo_, Lancelot thought again. He really just wanted to get some sleep. He contemplated quickly on whether or not that was a possible action. The other knights were up. The could handle whatever problem was occurring. It probably wasn't that important anyway. Probably. He could go back to sleep. But as he rolled over on his left side, facing the way Tristan was coming, he noticed smoke rising for the first time.

Lancelot rolled his eyes and then grudgingly stood up, annoyed that once again, some small town decided to get themselves killed. Fantastic.

Tristan rode up to the knights and jerked on the reins, making his horse skid to a stop.

"Let me guess," Lancelot began as he strapped his katanas to his back. "Romans, not knowing when enough…is enough."

Tristan shook his head, looking hard at Lancelot. "Saxons." he said as Arthur walked up, followed by Galahad and Bors.

Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise, as many of the other knights did. "Saxons? This far west?"

Tristan nodded. He was done talking, that much was obvious.

"How bad?" Dagonet asked carefully. You never wanted to push Tristan to talk. He got mad at that.

Tristan frowned, his dark eyebrows knitting together. "Bad."

"They still there?" Bors' voice was the only one that was filled with excitement.

Tristan nodded. He was definitely done talking for the day.

Arthur looked around, making small gestures for the men to get on their horses, as he too began saddling up quickly.

Lancelot rolled his eyes again and he trudged over to where his horse stood tied up. Once again, they were off on some stupid quest to save the world.

He just hoped that afterward he would be allowed to get some sleep.


End file.
